Opinions Sought

Has Anyone Read:

Dead Witch Walking - Kim Harris0n

S0mething fr0m the Night.side - Sim0n Green

If so please let me know what you thought of them.

The glorious insanity of the last few days (well, weeks) is not to be believed!

Scroogey Grinch

I am sitting here surrounded by piles of crap, realizing that I am starting to stress over all the piles of crap I routinely begin to purchase, organize, wrap, and mail each year at this time (fun though this is), and the piles of thoughtful crap we receive each year that, truly, we appreciate but don't need.

So, after Seymour reads this entry and we discuss it because that is how we do most of our communicating these crazy days, I am going to send out an email to all friends and family--grandparents excepted--letting them know that we've greatly reduced interest in sending or receiving Xmas presents this year. We will make donations in their name, in the amounts we would have spent, instead, and we would be grateful if they would redirect any Rosenberg-dedicated gift funds in the same manner.

Unless they or we find something Just Perfect. That is different.

But, truly, my stress level is soap-bubble precarious at the moment. The normal joyfulness of receiving a package--any package--gets completely overshadowed by the stress of having to find the time to open it, decide what to do with the box, divvy up its contents, put paper in the recyclable bin, wrapping paper in wrapping paper storage, peanuts and puffy bits to a big bag in the corner of the office, plastic bags and parts and even more interior boxes to be broken down and put in the trash/recycled/stored, (and God help you if you send my kids any toy in a molded plastic case to which it is attached by 500 twisty ties and cardboard anchors) and then consider the present itself which more than likely is something we adore but don't have space for in our overstuffed home. The process drains me. Completely.

If can get most people to abandon this tradition then I will also feel less guilt about the thank you notes I stopped writing once Mali arrived.

And just in case you are reading this and sniffing at me: yes, I know I am beyond overprivileged. It doesn't mean my life isn't difficult, and that little things don't push me over the edge.

My Baby Is So F***ing Cute That...

She pierced the armor of the sullen goth drug store cashier, who couldn't help but beam a big, sincere smile right back at super-friendly Miss Mali.

Goth girl self-corrected immediately upon realizing that she'd outed herself, mumbling and sulking during her entire exchange with me. But, heh heh heh.

Looong day

Seymour leetin gme sleep in on cal train day
Found evidence that leelo had poured himself some rice milk for first time
sitting there putting together two puzzles at once
such fantastic rhythm and pitch, singing songs cements his eye contact
gas station for gas, no cash wtf do they bohter?
Leelo with therapist F, frantic bath with Mali on floor
Ran off to Irish builders, she kicked ass:
-Woman run, so I won't be treated like an idiot unless I deserve it
-Experience building in Saint Matthew's county
-Reputation for being on time on budget
-Mid-size company, not so big we'll get lost, but if someone drops out they've got a "whole team of quarterbacks"
-totally green, the largest green-building trained construction co in the bay area
-Excited about our project and architects
-down with the NSB house idea (spend on comfort, design, and details, not square footage)
-though I must say it is odd that both the architect and builders we are talking to are sniffing at our budget a bit, saying that we'll be cutting it close. I thought our budget would build us a monster if that was our choice.

Able to make part of Bad Moms coffee, Scarlett showed up for the first time in a while, JP told us of her own intense post-partum depression episode following the birth of her second child. I had heard that she had had a bad time, but hadn't known how bad things were. Since my mom's family (which she married into) tend towards manic overachieving, they didn't quite get what to do with or about her. Though I know that during that time my auntie F (her mother-in-law) spent every Tuesday with her and the kids.

I asked Scarlett and JP if they had ever reached their limit at Iron Gate, if they had ever just wanted to walk away from the constant work and time demands (Jo: "I'm sick of it and my kids never even went there!"). Scarlett and JP laughed. I said I was f***ing sick of working in the class. Which I had to do in 90 minutes.

Ran home to Leelo, fed him and Mali lunch and packed their bags for my Iron Gate work day.

Off to Iron Gate. Where Leelo seemed extra-loopy as he has for a while. It wasn't as bad as I'd been anticipating, as I was working in the Back Room where the children not only get to be self-directed in their play, but in which they have to clean up after themselves.

Halfway through, Teacher P asked me to read a book about a boy with autism and his sister, to see if it would be a good book to read to the class in an upcoming circle time focus on differences in general and specific Leelo differences (the kids are really starting to notice that he is not One of Them). I burst into tears while reading the book, as it was about a big sister being left in charge of her ASD brother and so much like the Iz/Leelo dynamic or what I imagine it will be in the future. Teacher P looked mortified and let me go weep in the corner for a while.

0------------

There was more but this draft is almost a month old so I'm publishing the fucker anyhow.

Diversion

Mali has suddenly sprouted four more teeth, two sets of bookends for her existing set of four. (Two top, two bottom.)

We have decided that her nickname is "Trouble." For instance, she will no longer sit down in her bath or in her high chair. She stands in both and so far can escape all variations of the latter.

The best way to prevent her from crawling up the stairs is to put a dress on her. She is extra cute when she's girly yet pissed off.

Tonight she she playfully lunged for my (fully covered) bosom with an open mouth and a growl, which made me laugh. Which then made her laugh, so she did it again. And again. And again. Purposeful, interactive play! Love it.

Talk Is Good, Tact Is Even Better (More About Kat)

Last night I talked with Celia for a bit about Kat's suicide. Celia is really traumatized, she saw Kat every day and feels as though she's lost a sister. She feels so badly for Kat's husband and baby girl Sadie; she is trying to present a brave happy front as she babysits Sadie, trying to keep things normal for her.

But Celia is downhearted herself and finds it easier to muster her best cheer outside of Kat's house, away from Kat's photos, away from her things, away from the house where they spent so much time together.

I invited Celia to bring Sadie over for a play date with Mali this afternoon, while Leelo was at school. I opened the door to see Sadie standing there, with her lavender terry jump suit, big Mali-style cheeks, blonde hair, and dark serious eyes. It took all my will power to not snatch her up and squeeze into her all the love and attention I'd have given her mom in an instant, had I known how she needed it. We all would have. I still gave Sadie as much attention as I possibly could, carting her around and describing her environment to her, Badger-style, giving her lots of hugs.

Oh that sweet baby. I still cannot make the logical connection between her tiny little purposeful self and the permanent absence of her mother. Neither can Celia, even as she tells Sadie--as kindly and tenderly as possible--that her mommy won't be coming back. Sadie spent a lot of time not wanting to let go of Celia's skirt.

Mali eventually woke up and eyed Sadie warily, then enthusiastically poked her visitor in the eye and nostril. Since neither of the two has been socialized or spent much time with other babies, Celia and I are going get them together again on Friday, and perhaps weekly on Wednesday mornings. If Celia is kept on as Sadie's nanny.

Celia just needed to talk, that is how she processes. Mostly she is wondering what else she could have done. Kat was open about the fact that she was having a rough time, but she also told Celia that she was seeking proper treatment. Celia said she was concerned, but she really didn't see any significant change in Kat's behavior. Even so, she is going to beat herself up about this indefinitely, as she is too sensitive to operate any other way.

We are all full of what ifs, shock, and confusion. Ep saw Kat more than any of the rest of us, as she would occasionally drop by for daytime visits with Celia, and Kat would often be there. She is especially shocked that Kat did something so irrational, as she considered her to be one of the most logical and rational people she knew. Positively Spock-like, she said.

Celia said that Kat didn't really have any local friends to talk to, that she knew of. Celia tried to get Kat to go to our weekly bad moms coffee, several times, but Kat just couldn't do it. I felt like I'd been stabbed when she told me this. What would it have taken to encorage Kat to come? A mere one-line email? A phone call? Would feeling as though she had a place in our group been enough? Did our close-knittedness feel exclusionary? Another opportunity for endless-loop fretting.

Another thing Celia said is that Kat's husband doesn't want the facts of her death hushed up, in fact he wants it discussed in case that will help another severe depressive seek help. Specifics will probably be mentioned during the service tomorrow. We bad moms will be arriving together, armed with kleenex.

I had never been to a Deadwood funeral before this month, now Ep and I will have gone to two in little more than two weeks.

I can't stop thinking about Kat, and am dealing by keeping as busy as possible. Meals to four families, two tonight and two Friday. Seymour is being patient as I make like a dervish.

On the way home from delivering the meals and picking Seymour up from the CalTrain station, my cel phone rang and displayed Seymour's parents' number. I had a bad feeling and asked Seymour to take the call.

Turns out Seymour's cousin Rick had passed away. He had been sick for a long time, and in fact had been in a coma while we celebrated his niece's wedding this past weekend. So while it was not a surprise, it was still a blow. He was a sweet, loving man and we will all miss him

I was so very glad that Iz isn't here during all this, because she really got on well with Rick. Plus she finds the deaths of people she knows so disturbing that she pleads with us to not mention their names ever again. I figured I could break it to her slowly and gently.

I hadn't counted on my mom's underestimation of Iz's eavesdropping skills. I called my mother to tell her about Rick, and ended up telling her about Kat as well, how she was not able to overcome her post-partum depression, how she ended up jumping off the GG Bridge. My mom then handed the phone to Iz, who had apparently been in the room with my mom the whole time.

Iz: "Mommy, what is this sad thing that happened?"

Me: "Well, sweetie, cousin Rick died yesterday. He was very sick and he didn't get better. Are you okay?"

Iz: **whimper** (She loved Rick.) Then,
"Mommy, Grandma said something else, about someone jumping off the GG Bridge. Who was that?"

***FUCK!***
Me: "Well, Iz, you know the lady Celia nannies for? She was very, very sad. She had a problem with the chemicals in her brain, and they wouldn't let her be happy. She tried to get help, but she thought she couldn't make herself better, and so she jumped off the bridge. I promise I will never, ever do that, because my brain isn't like that. I promise. Do you understand? Do you understand how much I love you and that my brain is okay and so I couldn't ever do that?"

Iz, distressed: "Mommy, we met Kat at the park, with Celia and Sadie. I met her!"

Me: "I didn't know that, Iz. Are you going to be okay?"

Iz, still distressed: "Mommy, I don't want to talk about this anymore, okay? Please?"

Me: "No problem, but let me know if you change your mind. I love you very much."

Nice one, Grandma! FUCK. FUCK.

Leelo's Yearly Program Evaluation: Quick Notes

Today Supervisor Andil and Supervisor M joined Seymour and me to discuss Leelo's status. I am going to write quick notes only because Mali will probably wake up soon and realize I am not in bed yet and start the howling that only a boob stuffed in her mouth can quiet.

All in all we are all pleased. Yay. Seymour and I said that we are only interested in the best place for Leelo, in the education that will help him gain skills in an enriching setting. We don't give a shit about putting him in a regular classroom if that's not what he needs.

We also mentioned that we are both feeling optimistic and hopeful about Leelo's future and potential. (Seymour told me this spontaneously over the weekend; I was pleased because I'd been feeling the same way.) Leelo may never be a typical boy, but we don't care as long as he's happy. This is a big change from last year when we were both fairly morose about Leelo's outlook.

Andil and M say:

Leelo is seeing people as a reinforcers, he enjoys them, his social skills are good and will get better. This can't be taught, really. Excellent news.

His actions such as asking and going looking for a towel when he spills something, and then wiping up the mess himself, shows that he is developing problem-solving skills. Also good, hard to teach.

An all-autism class is not a great place in which to develop Leelo's budding social skills; if we were to consider such a class for Leelo next year then we would have to be judicious in setting up facilitated playgroups outside of class.

Iron Gate has minimal structure which is hard for Leelo. Supervisor M thinks it is a wondeful environment for Leelo, though. I mentioned that it really sucked for me to work in the classroom and go to the classes as I am constantly barraged with Typical Four-Year-Oldness, but that if she thinks it is helping Leelo then I will do whatever it takes. At any rate Kindergarten will be much more structured and he might find it easier.

However Leelo's activity level and vocal stimming may interfere with classroom inclusion, even in a special day class. We should investigate (not choose, investigate) medication options. We should ask the Stafnord clinic folks, the MD at the UCCSF clinic.

Inclusion means that his base is in a typical classroom (with or without aide) and that he will be pulled out for therapeutic activities such as OT, etc.

Mainstreaming means that his base is in a special day class and that he will be pulled into the typical classroom for certain periods of the day.

M showed us a list of skills children need to have for classroom inclusion. The list was long, and Leelo has mastered few items on it (being able to wait in line, raise hand to ask questions, sustain short conversations, etc.). Kindergarten is a year away, though, and we all agreed that a lot can happen in a year.

And so much more. Basically we are pleased with Leelo's program, they are pleased with the progress he's made over the last year especially given that the major disruptions of a new baby sister and his senior therapist (F) leaving.

I hope Supervisor M will have written up a superior, detailed summary.

Here is my to-do list as assigned over the meeting's course:

• Ask JM about Dr. Go1dberg. Andil thinks JM might know about him, also he was cited specifically by Christina Adams (A Rea1 Boy) as being a pivotal part of her son's recovery.
• Visit Wings school in San Mate0, find out about their inclusion components.
  
• Visit Day Classes in Deadwood public schools. Find out if they do inclusion or mainstreaming.
• Talk to parents who've had kids in classes around the school district, who is good, who is not.
  
• Set up Leelo's first IEP/intake with Deadwood school district. How? Perhaps Sage will know?
• Call Stafnord and set up Leelo's follow-up evaluation (initial evaluation was March 2003, they asked us to bring him back in two years). Part of eval will be to ask about meds.
  
• Call G1enn E11iott, MD at UCCSF and expert in fine-tuning meds for autistic kids. Get on potentially six-month-long wait list, anyhow. If Stafnord answers meds questions can always cancel E11iott appointment.
  

Fuck You, Part II

I think I forgot to mention that the twit about whom I wrote this post is at Iron Gate this year. She hasn't changed.

During tonight's Iron Gate meeting, Teacher P was discussing sensory integration and how some children who seek deep pressure find it soothing to wear heavy, weighted vests. The Twit then brayed, "Maybe they should just chain them to the floor!"

Can you fucking believe it? Can you believe the insensitivity, knowing that at least three parents in the class have kids with sensory needs?

I hope everyone in class saw the instant looks of horror on my and Sage's faces, and the disgusted looks we gave each other from across the room for the next few minutes.

Otherwise, tonight was actually a useful and interesting Iron Gate night class, in which Teacher P described her weekly in-class sensory integration program (something Leelo will get quite a lot out of if we can get him to participate). And the parents' comments almost got good and raunchy when Teacher P started discussing the role of vibrators in the program. (Apparently we can't let the kids use them near their private parts, and we can't write them off for tax purposes if we buy them at G00d Vibrations.)

I even got to amuse myself and Laurie my seatmate:

Teacher P: "...some people think that caesarian-born children or children who didn't go through at least four hours of labor have proprioreception problems because of insufficient pressure sustained during the birthing process."

Me, under my breath: "Yeah, tell that to my BUTT."

OMFG For Real

Badger and Jo, apologies for relaying information this way. I can't talk any more tonight.

Our Thursday night babysitter, Celia, just called to say that she couldn't come this week. As I am a small person who spent the day whining about both Therapist L and Therapist Y having to cancel their sessions, my reaction was stunned silence, followed by, "Oh, okay." Then she said,

"I can't come because Kat (the lady she nannies for) died this weekend."

...

...

...

Once I was able to talk again, I asked her what had happened. She said that there was an accident, that Kat had become depressed and had taken her own life. This is the same super-chipper Kat who came to Bad Moms coffee regularly a year ago, right before and after her baby girl was born. That baby who just turned one, that baby Celia and I always chat about and compare to 10-weeks-younger Mali.

Kat hadn't come to coffee in months but I didn't think anything of it because she worked full time. Celia said Kat had become quiet and withdrawn during the past couple of months, but that she didn't want to talk about what was bothering her because she was ashamed of her feelings. I so very much wished she had talked to us.

I told Celia to let Kat's husband know that we and the local mothers club can help out with meals and babysitting indefinitely, that they only need to let us know. If they want to.

Celia said that this has been one of the worst weeks of her life. I did not press her for details, I do not know if Celia was in the house at the same time, or what actions Kat took.

All I can think of is how irrepressibly bouncy Kat always seemed, how she was drawn to our group after Jo identified herself as a pinko commie feminist mom on the local moms club email board.

If you are feeling depressed, for fuck's sake please do not feel ashamed to talk to anyone. Talk to me, even. Please.

OMFG

Leelo just took a full header down the stairs. All the way from the top to the bottom.

It's been an hour, and he's seemed fine from the very first after the initial howling, but I think his days of playing on the top few stairs are officially over.

Iz is with her grandparents for the week. I thought this would signal a week of (relative) ease for me, but no. Therapist L had a medical emergency today, and she works both Monday shifts. Not only will Leelo need to miss Iron Gate this afternoon, but that I have to find a substitute for my Iron Gate shift since Leelo can't attend without an aide even if I am there.

Fuck. This is coming off a real zinger of a fucked up wedding/travel weekend. Fuck!

She's Only Six, for F**k's Sake

Seymour, Leelo, Mali, and I just returned from the wedding weekend from hell (more on that later). Iz is not with us because we handed her off to Aunt Bree, who is taking her down to La J0lla to hang with my folks for a few days. I miss that little shit already.

We had to leave the wedding reception early because it was stressing Leelo out. Bree and James (Seymour's brother) graciously agreed to let Iz ride out the reception with them because she was having so much fun with her cousins, their daughters Mira (5) and Kylie (2.5).

Three hours later a nonplussed looking Iz was dropped at our hotel room door by an equally nonplussed looking Uncle James. Turns out Iz and Mira had made one of Iz's signature potions out

Seymour coffee, and he was a good kid. Need to have perfect kids, why?

Iz' teacher worried about this more than actual incidents, worried about long-term peer scenarios. Also thinks she's odd because she told the middle school teacher that she wouldn't be attending 5th grade at Esperanza since she was already down for H0gwarts. Used to worry that she didn't pretend! Also called another kid at the wedding a mudblood, worst insult ever.

----------I found this draft in the woodpile and am publishing it as is------------